Tuesday, 18 November 2014

The Voice.

Shut out the drums, the guitar, and every other instrument.
Go beyond the lyrics and their meaning.
Focus on the voice.
The Voice. Something about it. Something very unique. 
Yet one cannot put a finger on that one thing.

This voice, evokes images of dark silk bed linen,
tossed and tangled with white cotton bed sheets,
images of a mixture of molten dark chocolate,
and raw unprocessed honey.
Luscious. Sticky. Sweet. As dark as sin.

The voice that evokes images of long walks through vineyards at dawn,
and lazy walks along the beach at dusk.
images of azure skies, golden sun rays and cotton-puff clouds,
of pitch black night skies with diamonds of stars strewn across their breadth.

That type of voice that gets you hooked,
Even when you don't comprehend what is being said.

The kind of voice that evokes images of tall, dark, sexy brothers,
Riding bareback on equally sexy dark horses.

Fine looking gentlemen in tailor made Italian suits,
holding intelligent conversations in the saloon,
the fat cigars,
precariously hanging from the corners of the mouths of some of the gents,
creating a mysterious haze in the room,
and a thick concoction of cigar, whiskey, aftershave and cologne scents,
hanging in the air.

Breathtakingly sexy male, clad in only distressed denims,
padding barefooted around the house,
with a 'wicked' gleam in his eyes,
and a bottle of bubbly and two flute glasses in hand,
walking towards the bedroom.

Images of peaches and cream,
grapes and cheese.
The voice.
Dark, gruff. fluid. sexy. beautiful. male

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

The (other) woman.

In the heat of the moment,
I scratch your back with my nails,
So that when you lie down with her,
She is going to know,
Know that I was here.

But that deep welt on your neck,
Did she put it there?
Was she also marking her territory,
So I would also know,
Know that she was there?

I let my perfume mix with your cologne,
Let you run your hands into my perfumed hair,
So that if or when you go to her next,
She is going to smell me on you,
And know that,
Know that I was here.

But that sweet smell on your body,
Is it a mixture of her scent and yours?
Were you in her arms then?
And did she rub her perfume onto you
So that I would smell her on you,
And know that,
Know that she was there?

When she kisses you,
Does she taste me on your lips,
On your palate and tongue.

And when I kiss you,
Is it her I taste on your lips,
On your palate and your tongue?

Monday, 25 August 2014

I write!

I write 
To cleanse my soul
To spread my wings and take a journey into my inner self
to mend my broken heart
To dry my tears,
To get over my anguish,
And celebrate my triumphs.

I write
To cleanse people's souls,
Take them on a journey into my inner self,
Thereby mending their broken hearts,
Drying their tears,
Help them get over their grief,
And celebrate their triumphs.

I write to heal,
I write to survive,
I write to breathe,
I write to live,


The mottled moon throws an eerie glow on the trees,
Where an owl hoots,once...twice,
The wind howls as if possessed,
Somebody in the distance wails like a banshee.

Groping in the dark
He knocks over the standing candelabra,
The light goes out immediately,
Pitch-black emptiness.

Snuffed out just like that.
Morning dew...here now, then gone.
Dark.  Cruel. 

The weeping willows...sigh,
Bowing down,
Burdened by the grief,
To the point of breaking.

Snatched away just like that,
Shadows...here now, then gone.
Dark. Cold.

Friday, 4 July 2014

I just couldn’t live without… (Day 4)

The  great Bard of Avon said “To weep is to make less the depth of grief.” and in Les Miserables, Victor Hugo said “Those who do not weep, do not see."

 I just couldn't live without… my tears.

I have shed tears of joy...I have shed tears of anguish. I have shed tears. I have had my heart ripped apart and only through  crying have I started the process of grieving....  I have had beautiful moments in life...so breath-taking and beautiful, that I found tears rolling  down my cheeks..in gaiety.

I cannot live without my tears... I lose  some and the body has some stored up for me, for those moments when I need them....in pain and in joy.

Thursday, 3 July 2014

One of my biggest fears (day3)

I would have said I am afraid of the dark, spiders, heights, large water bodies. I was afraid of all these at one time, very afraid..then I learnt to sleep with the lights off, I cleaned-off cob webs and spiders  from a disused room, made trips  with  aero-planes a couple of times and fooled around in the water at the beach  a couple of times. I realised, I had met my fears head-on and conquered them.

I have lost loved ones... four of them in the past three years. This left me broken. Again I would say I fear  death. Well I came very close to it  when I got mugged... very very close to slipping away.But I survived.

I lost my father when I was very young...I do not even remember what his voice sounded like..or how he walked... his scent. Nothing. Nothing at all.

But for these  four people I lost....I had known them for over a decade,  shared very special moments with them. I know how they talked, how they walked, their scents. Everything.

My biggest fear  would be to let these memories  slip. I lost them  to death and the only way I can keep them  closer to my heart would be  to keep the memories  alive.

I do not want to  forget how they smiled. I  do not want to to have their images  become blurred, I do not want their  voices to become lost in the winds.

For forgetting how they laughed  and how they cried , how they ran and how they walked , how they sat and how they stood and how ....Lord everything.... would be to lose them forever. 

And that is my greatest fear.

Wednesday, 2 July 2014

My 5 favourite words in English (or any language) :)

My five favourite words.... well I love words and I have tonnes of them swirling in my head...choosing five is a mission...but I have to.

Lately I have fallen in love with the Korean language and so my favourite words are going to be Korean:

1.Sarang (Love)
2.Yobo (Dear/ Honey)
3.Komawo (Thanks)
4. Bianeyo (I am sorry)
5. Kenchana (It's alright)

Sunday, 15 June 2014

Well...sex is a beautiful act ain't it?

Sex is a beautiful act ain't it?
Oh so magical connection of bodies and souls....

Then would you find it weird if somebody said they hate sex?

You know when your partner abuses you,
And in some cases, physically,
How would you react when he gets into bed and tries to be intimate?
You would cringe,
Or I would.

Melancholy by Natalia Tejera

You don't want him near you,
His presence is suffocating you,
Smothering you,
Drowning you,
But you can't fight him off,
If you try you might just get a slap across the face,
Or a pinch on the inner part of your thighs.

So you spread them legs,
Let him have his way with you,
Groaning and grunting as he happily pumps away,
With each stroke,
Your soul winces,
With each stroke,
You die a little inside.

You lie there,
Eyes glazed,
Like a rag doll,
Not allowing yourself to feel anything.

He tries to take your hand,
And have you hold onto him,
But your limp arm falls away.
He doesn't stop though.

Once he is done with you,
He rolls over to his side of the bed,
To fall asleep or for a cigarette,

You feel beyond filthy, numb, a husk of a being.
You just can't wait to get into the shower,
Scrub yourself raw,
Allowing the hot saline tears you had been holding back to break the dam wall!

Friday, 13 June 2014

The Metamorphosis

As a kid, love for me was like…

Sweet smelling roses,
Sweet tasting honey,
Pearls of laughter everyday!

It came with images of clean white intimate wear,
Fresh potpourri-scented bed linen,
Warm baths, quick footfalls in the corridors,
Soft breezes in the meadows, rattling the blades of the tall grass and cooling our sweating frames!

Images of red berries in our dessert,
Real succulent pleasures,
As we took second servings,
In hushed tones,
Leaving crumbs on the floor,
And if naughty,
Jam stains on the kitchen linen!

Images of endless azure skies,
Disappearing where the sky met the sea,
Or where the sky met the land!

Images that would make me hop,skip and jump,
Images that would make me go around the world with a knowing look in my eyes,
And a naughty smile playing on my lips!

As an adult, love has become…

In most cases, roses plus their thorns,
Honey plus bee stings,
Rainbows plus lightning bolts and thunder,
Gaiety alongside melancholy!

But it came with images of black lace on fuller flesh,
Twisted and discarded red satin sheets,
Hot sighs, quick breathes,
Soft breezes that rattle the curtains and cool the sweating bodies!

Images of berry red lips,
Bordering succulent pleasures,
Uttering intoxicating words,
In hushed tones,
Leaving lipstick marks on the rims of wine glasses,
And if naughty,
On the collars of men’s shirts!

Images of endless legs covered in soft panty hose,
Disappearing into sexy ultra-high stilettoes,
And crazy micro-minis!

Images that would make me cross uncross and cross my legs again,
Images that would make me go around the world with a knowing look in my eyes,
And a naughty smile playing on my lips!

Wednesday, 14 May 2014

The Game(s)...

The rich aroma of the Cuban cigars, 
His scent, a concoction of aftershave, some pinewood cologne and a bit of sweat, 
The voice of KEM from the radio, 
And the heat from his palm, 
Possessively placed on her thigh, 
Intoxicated her.

He has been asking for a mere peck on the cheek the whole night, 
She had constantly said No, 
He said she was killing him, 
She smiled coyly at him, 
Batting her lashes, feigning innocence.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her, 
Or more.

He ran his hand up and down her inner thigh, 
She gasped,
His hands were soft, 
And hot, 
And making her lose control.

But she told him to stop, 
He groaned, reluctantly taking his hand from her thigh, 
Whoa, he looked totally hurt, 
The spot where his hand had been burning her, 
Suddenly became cold, 
A shiver ran down her spine.

She started conjuring hot crazy images in her mind, 
Him on her, 
Her on him.

His voice brought her back to reality, 
'I'm leaving' he said.
He sounded pretty disappointed, and she knew she had taken it too far.

When he least expected it, 
She grabbed him by the collar, 
Drew his face to her, 
Met his lips, 
Drank from them as if thirsty, 
Making love to them lips, 
And tasting him over and over again.

She broke the kiss, 
Opened the car door, 
Slipped out and strode towards her apartment without a backward glance.

She knew he had not started the car, 
She knew he was staring at her, 
She smiled, swayed her hips and let herself Into her house.

Sunday, 4 May 2014

My... errrrm...right

So yesterday, while still reeling from the eargasmic performance by the Burkinabe-Zim outfit,  Sowe, which had performed in the Coca-Cola Green, there was an announcement which caught my attention.

There was an on-going  'promo' where one would give 'One 
 square centimeter' of their skin for Human rights in the form of getting inked. 

The flyer read  'To create awareness for Human rights, we are going to tattoo the Universal Declaration of Human rights, all 6773 letters of it, on 6773 individuals worldwide.'

Now, I'm not a human rights lawyer or one of those actively involved in NGOs pushing such and such agendas for ’human rights'.

But I'm human, and I have rights, yes, including the right to get inked.

See, I have always wanted to get inked but a couple of things held me back. ..I didn't know if I could stand the pain, I didn't know where to find a proper tattoo artist who wouldn't mess me up...and well, opinions of the society.

So I told this lady excitedly, that I was gonna get inked, then she got into this whole lecture of how my body was a temple and shouldn't be desecrated. FOH, what desecration? !!

And this coming from someone who had been imbibing the wise waters of Pilsner, huh  *I sniggered*  what worse desecration than that? ! I see she  had her judgmental pants all hoicked up to the armpits…SMH.

And she goes on yapping about how we shouldn't disobey God by adding foreign irrems on our bodies. *and she is staring hard at my nose stud*.

I kept myself in check, for I was about to roll my eyes at her.

She is rocking a weave, nail polish aaaand has earrings for God's sake, yet she is sitting there giving me an earful about foreign irrems what what...the damn irony.

The retort at the tip of my tongue is 'Guuuurl' *in Madea's voice. 'Were you born with that hideous synthetic weave on? '

So people quoting this ‘don't decorate the temple and yada yada what not’, listen, yes my body is a temple, and I shall decorate it.

Literal sense for some of us….you have been in temples, chapels, cathedrals and what have you? Aren’t they decorated with murals, frescoes, tinted windows and more? And then?

Live a little, if you can't, let others live, ok....off to get inked, byeeee :)

Friday, 2 May 2014


After reading Haziey's post on Tracy Chapman, something in me stirred, the words talked to my heart;it was like she took my thoughts and put them on paper...I could relate.

I went to my play list and selected Tracy's music, listening to one song after another, and re-reading Haziey's post, savoring the words,sinking into the emotions they evoked.

One great song led to another till I found myself listening to Daughtry...Well, now we come to the crux of the matter!
Photo courtesy of www.daughtryofficial.com

DAUGHTRY, this American rock band formed and fronted by Chris Daughtry, a finalist of the fifth edition of American Idols. I love Daughtry's music....Chris Daughtry's voice coupled with his Vin Diesel typpa bald head and looks! Yeah!

Well I wasn't aware of this phenomenal group and their crazy crazy tunes till 2011-nish. Yeah yeah yeah *rolls eyes*. My then lover introduced me to Daughtry in the form of the song September from the album Leave This Town

This became Our Song! September! We listened to it over and over again! Abused it so...

As our love for Daughtry  grew, we started listening to more songs by them...Tennessee Line, Life After You, Call Your Name, Learn my Lesson and more.

Thing is, I can listen to Daughtry anytime, in any mood and still get moved by the music. 

Some songs make you shed a tear, some make you smile, some make you feel like you are totally invincible!

There is this beautiful song....The Start of Something Good off the album Break The Spell, my my my! Now the video is equally beautiful...with Chris and that his bald head (yeah that) and his guitar, sitting on the hood of that vintage automobile...

Hoo Fadha! Why can't I get somebody to sing their soul out like that for me...serenading me under my window like they do in movies and fairy tales....ok ok, I will stop!

The video gets me all mushy and shit, makes me think of lying down in the grass with my significant other, under the azure sky, let the world and all the bad painful things go past us, soaking in the ambiance of our love.

Some people say this genre is for white folk...I say FOH, this is my genre, I LOVE ROCK, Daughtry to be specific. 

This human who introduced me to the awesome sounds of Chris Daughtry, we are nolonger together... But we still talk. He might after a loooong time just send a text saying, I'm listening to September or The Start Of Something Good and it would be enough,enough, not to make me miss him but to remind me of the crazy beautiful times we had and appreciate life more.

Now, I don't have a favourite Daughtry song, asking me to choose would be asking me to well *inserts some intelligent statement here* . In lower elementary school maths we would say, IT CAN'T.

I listen to Traitor when I feel betrayed and trying to calm my nerves...I listen to Learn my Lesson when a lover does me wrong...the song being a way of indirectly telling myself 'I told you so.'

Life After You...well this song is major (I would probably say so about...errrr...all Daughtry songs)....it also reminds me of this girl, a kindred spirit whose love for the Rock band probably matches mine....I listen to it and find myself missing her *shed a thug tear*.

I would go on and on, but I'm freezing my ass out here, as I found the doors locked at home and am sitting on the door step like some hobo.

Lemme play a little bit of music....well the song that comes out tops is Broken Arrows by Daughtry....

"And I'm tired of taking my aim
When I keep on missing
There's gotta be a better way

There's gotta be a better way........

So baby hold on
But I'm shooting with broken arrows

Thursday, 1 May 2014

Of Adonis and more...

Caught staring once,
Or twice,
No reprimand,
Instead I'm rewarded with a sexy dreamy smile,
Which made my insides melt and quiver. 

Limbs deliciously sore, 
Throbbing from the very core,
I stare and wonder how this yummy Adonis got into my bed,
Boy is such a fiiine human,
I run my hands across his chest to make sure he is real,

Without opening his eyes,
He sighed, shifted and put an arm around me,
I arched my back,
Put my head on his chest,
And listened to his heart-rate slow down to normal again.

In my bliss, I drifted off to sleep, a smile playing on my lips.

Hours later, woke up,
In the dark, cold and alone in bed,
Except for a hurriedly scribbled note,
Stating that he did not want to disturb me from my  'beautiful' slumber,
No  'I love you'
No  'You were awesome in bed'
No talk of when I would see him again.

Pulled the covers to my chin,
Fighting back tears,
Anger and shame welling up,
Memories of that afternoon's encounter crushing me.

Just then the door burst open,
And in strode  Adonis,
Carrying a shopping bag full of garlic rolls,
French sticks,
And more.

Relief surged through me,
I stretched out,
And purred contentedly,
Prompting him to drop everything and come towards me in purposeful strides,
A smile on his lips,
And that hot hot look in his eyes!

Friday, 28 March 2014

This our love!

Somebody nudges me,
I look up in confusion,
There in front of me is a page full of scribbles of your name,
And doodles of your face,
Am sitting in a meeting,
And didn't hear a word anybody said!

It is both insanity and sanity,
This our love!
It is both captivity and freedom,
This our love!

Am carving hearts
In almost all the tree trunks I come across,
Writing Te Amo on the beach sand,
And watch the waves carry the message to you,
I create various portmanteaus with our names
And try out my name with your surname.

Every love song,
Seems to be talking to us,
Seems to have been written for us,
I read the love stories,
We are Romeo and Juliet,
Minus the family feud,
We are Esmeralda and Quasimodo ,
Minus Frollo
We are Othello and Desdemona,
Minus the jealousy and deaths!

It is both insanity and sanity,
This our love!
Setting me free in its captivity,
This our love!

It is both ordinary and extraordinary,
Fragile and strong,
The kind that I don't wanna give up,
The kind I would go to the end of the world and back for!

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Touch...me ...here

Your scent is heady,
It’s intoxicating me,
You said the name of your cologne is Eros?
How apt!

Touch me here,
Touch there,
Ah! And here, and here…and…
Kiss me here,
Lemme kiss you back,
Let my tongue chase yours,

Look at me,
Yass, that’s lust there swirling in them eyes,
Yeah, I see the flames leaping,
Why you biting your lip now,
Lemme bite it for you!

That smile,
Yes, that sexy, sexy smile,
I see the dimple too,
Lemme cup that face,
And feel the stubble,
Now I wanna nuzzle.

Push my skirts up a bit,
And a little bit more,
See, I’m showing some leg,
No, I don’t care who sees us,
I only got eyes for you here.

Hold me closer, you sexy thaang,
Yeah , like that,
Lemme listen to your heart slam against the chest walls,
I can tell from your rugged breathing,
That the passion has turned your insides into molten fire.

Release it,
Let it burn us,
Consume us,
Allow us to soar,
And soar,
Go closer to the sun like Icarus
Then when we crash back onto the earth,
We land into each other’s embrace.